


Consequences

by Darcylovette



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Chara Possessing Frisk, Death, Gender-Neutral Chara, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Post-Undertale Genocide Route, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 00:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11115981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darcylovette/pseuds/Darcylovette
Summary: “I want to make sure you do not forget who you are or what you have done. Did you really think, after all this time, you are still above consequences?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to continue this but I want to see what sort of a reaction this gets. If it continues, it will tell the tale of what happens to all your friends if you complete a pacifist route after a completed genocide route. How does Chara kill them all? Why does Chara come back at all?

The nightmares didn’t get worse. They didn’t get better, either.

Night after night they were just as horrific. Unrelenting and merciless. I woke up in cold sweats; fear and regret sunk their blades into my flesh, unable to keep my hands from trembling as if they were no longer in my control. I wanted to scream but these demons were not in my room. They were not in my world. They were in my dreams… waiting for me.

It had been five years since The Liberation. Two long years since I’d repented my sins and fixed all my mistakes. By the gods, had I made mistakes.

I’d done everything wrong. Not just a few errors, a couple lapses in judgement, a slip up here and there… _everything_. Every footprint on the dusty road of destruction was mine. If blood could have spilled there would have been rivers.

_Tides of blood consuming the world as it died – no bodies, no memories, not even dust._

To kill is to bring the end before its time.

To erase is much simpler. How can one be judged for a crime against something which was never allowed to exist?

I allowed **them** to erase the world. I had reset over and over and every time it made no difference – the world would not allow me to wash away my mistakes, every creature seemed to mock me and ridicule me as time and time again they forced me to remember. But how could they have known? Why did they continue to know? I just wanted to shut them up. I wanted to start anew.

Resetting the world was not the solution.

It had to be erased.

I silenced them and I allowed my new partner to erase my mistakes once and for all.

But I was a fool.

It wasn’t just my choices, my mistakes, and my crimes they erased. It was every single thing to have ever or will ever exist. I couldn’t start again because there was **nothing** to go back to.

_Everything was black._

_The wind was **howling.**_

I was alone with nothing but the sins crawling on my back and the twisted faces of my murdered friends flashing before my eyes, clear as photographs. My soul was more powerful than the human race combined; I could feel it pulsing and writhing inside me, weighing me down, choking me. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move. I could barely think.

That’s when **they** came back.

I handed over my soul as if it were a ticking bomb. “Take it!!” I screamed. “Take this wretched heart from me!! Take my soul and give me back my world! Give it back!! _Give it back!!_ ”

Then I woke up on a bed of golden flowers.

As if it had all been a bad dream.

I did _everything_ right this time. I showed mercy, I offered friendship, I died over and over but never raised a hand in violence against them. I did good. I did really good! I helped everyone. I freed everyone. I loved everyone. I’d destroyed the world, but then I’d saved the world.

I was good.

Then… why must these dreams torture me so? Why did the rivers of blood continue to drown everything they touched? Why were the screams so loud they echoed even after I’d woke? Why were the colours so distorted? Why were the faces mangled beyond recognition? Why couldn’t I control my rotting, decaying hands as they killed and killed and killed and killed again and again and again and again?

The answer to my question was stood, shrouded by shadow, at the end of my bed. A silhouette in the darkness, but those eyes couldn’t have belonged to anyone else. I knew why they were here. But there was just one question I needed the answer to.

“Why?” I asked, pulling the blanket further up my body like a shield.

“ _You really do not know the answer?_ ” they replied. Their voice was completely silent but I could somehow hear them inside my head, as if they were beaming their words straight into my mind.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked, louder this time.

“ _I want to make sure you do not forget who you are or what you have done. Did you really think, after all this time, you are still above consequences?_ ”

“No.” I snapped back, “No! B-but look around!!” I gestured to the cold, dark bedroom, “I fixed it, look! I made it all better! I did it right this time! I-I saved them all!”

“ _You killed them all._ ”

“Then I saved them! I fixed my mistakes! I made up for everything! I gave you my soul so that they could come back again! What more could you possibly want from me now?!”

The creature did not answer at first, as if they were deeply in thought. “ _You gave me your soul. You fixed everything. You saved everyone. But it was not for them, was it?_ ”

I choked on the cotton-dry lump in my throat, “What? Wh-what?”

“ _You didn’t do it for them. It was your own guilt which pushed you down the path of pacifism. It was your own fear. It was your own regret. You wanted to rid yourself of those feelings. You wanted to put it right because you hated being so wrong. You are not kind. You are not selfless. You are not a hero. You’re a coward. Do I frighten you, Frisk?_ ”

It was my time not to answer.

“ _Interesting. You walked the path of goodness not because you yourself are good, but because you didn’t want to feel bad anymore. Can goodness be motivated by guilt, fear, and regret? Can any act be considered good with such tainted intentions?_ ”

“How can I fix this?”

“ _You cannot. You made your choices. You cannot be freed and allowed to live your happy ending. I cannot allow that. I will not allow that._ ”

I hung my head. I wanted to cry but I felt too empty. “Are you going to kill me?”

“ _No, Frisk. I will not kill you. A dead person cannot feel remorse – I would know._ ”

“Chara… just tell me.” I sighed, “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want to do. Tell me what I have to do.”

“ _You don’t have to do anything._ ”

I looked up and saw that Chara had disappeared. Everything was very still for a few moments. A plate of pie was sitting on the carpet. I went to breathe a sigh of relief… but I couldn’t. I tried to breathe but I couldn’t. I went to reach my hands around my neck but they wouldn’t move from my sides.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t scream.

I couldn’t even blink.

Slowly, slowly… my mouth began to open, and from my parted lips came a voice I had never heard before, “… _You were **never** the one in control._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be very upsetting to anyone who has lost a loved one. Please proceed with caution.

Chara took their first few wobbly steps in my body.

I screamed inside my mind for my limbs to resist them but it was hopeless – I was numb. I couldn’t feel the carpet as my feet began to move, or feel my knuckles click as my fingers flexed by my hips. We were moving at a zombie’s pace, our head down in concentration.

There was one thing I could still feel. The shivering pulse of that cursed, wretched soul inside me once again. It felt rotten, it felt corrupted, yet it pulsated and quivered like a fresh, still-warm corpse.

Soon enough our steps became longer, faster, more confident. I watched as my hand touched the handle to my door, fingers brushing against it before taking a firm grip. My body leaned to the side as we twisted it open, the silence of night broken as the creaky echoes flooded the hallway.

I gave up my attempts to move my own body and instead focused on trying to wake up. _This was a dream._ I’d have dreams similar to this a thousand times and each time it felt real. Every detail, every second passing, every step we took felt as real as death. Perhaps I had finally reached the point where I was aware I was dreaming. A small step, but a milestone nonetheless. Maybe I was on the right path to beating these dreams for good.

We were in the kitchen now.

We had stopped moving.

Chara moved my eyes around the room, but I couldn’t tell what they were trying to focus on. They settled on the area with the fridge, the microwave, and one of the counters. We shuffled towards it, stopping and starting whenever our balance began to slip. I felt a little sick from the motions.

As we approached the fridge our steps began to slow down to a gentle stop, our face almost touching the white door cluttered with magnets and sticky notes. I could read the one asking me to buy milk after school, with a little heart and a drawing of a cow. It was cute.

I began to wonder why Chara was staring so intently at the fridge when one of our legs started sliding to the left. Then the other. Then again. Now we were staring at the microwave. It took me a while to notice our hand reaching up, up, up and sliding under the handle to the drawer. We stepped back and the drawer came with us. Silverware, nothing more.

It was hard to see in the darkness but I watched my hand dip inside the drawer and slowly move around, listening to the sound of metal clanging and scraping against each other. The hand started to pull out. I assumed Chara had given up as the hand fell back to our side.

Back upstairs we went; our movements more natural and lifelike than before. It looked like we were heading back towards my bedroom – I, ready for this nightmare to be over, made no attempt to stop them.

We approached my door.

We kept going.

We approached the bathroom.

We kept going.

We approached Toriel’s room.

We stopped.

The room span as our head limply slumped to the side tp stare at the handle.

I heard our lips part into a wide, open smile.

_No._

My hand reached for the handle.

_No! Chara, no!_

The door opened with ease.

_Please! Not this!_

I saw Toriel’s sleeping form in the darkness.

_Chara, I’m begging you! Kill me! Kill me!_

Our footsteps seemed to stir her from sleep.

_Just kill me! Just kill **me!**_

“Ooh… oh, m-my child?” Toriel yawned as she sat upright, “Are you alright?”

**_Please don’t kill my mom!!_ **

“Hello, mother.”

“Dear, you look pale…” she reached over and flicked on the lamp. The sudden brightness was blinding but Chara refused to let us blink. “Are you ill?”

“No, mother. I am fine.”

“Did you have a nightmare again?”

“No, mother. I am fine.”

“Then why aren’t you asleep, my child? You have school tomorrow.”

“I want to tell you something, mother.”

“Alright…” Toriel yawned again and stretched, “What is it, Frisk?”

“I killed you, mother.”

_NO!!_

Toriel looked at us as the smile fell from their face, “… I…” she looked scared, “I don’t understand?”

“I killed you. Back in the ruins. I hit you and you died instantly. I didn’t care. I wanted you to die. It made me stronger. That’s all that matters, mother.”

_Stop it stop it stop it!!_

Toriel was shaking, “Please… don’t talk like that, Frisk. You’re frightening me.”

“I killed you. I erased the timeline. But then I brought it back because I was too guilty. Do you forgive me, mother? Do you forgive me for killing you?”

Toriel’s gaze flickered down to our hand, then back up. Her eyes were filling with tears, “… Y-yes, Frisk. Yes, I forgive you, my sweet child. N-now… give me th-”

In one quick movement a knife had planted its blade directly into Toriel’s chest.

There was no blood.

I began to scream.

Chara only smiled as Toriel’s body went stiff and cracks began to appear. Her horrified, surprised, heartbroken expression didn’t change as her body withered and collapsed. There was nothing left but a knife sitting on the bed in a pile of dust. There was a bookmark sticking out of the novel on her bedside table – the one I made for her two years ago. She’d poured herself a glass of water. A jumped was folded on a chair.

I was screaming.

I was howling.

_Pain. Pain. Pain._

“We’re done here. Now…” our head lolled back and stared at the ceiling, “… we have work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me for updates and more on my Tumblr! Darcylovette.tumblr.com . Tell your friends!


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